


Winter in Bloom

by salatuh



Series: Everlasting Arms [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Lifestyles, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anne/Jack, Ben Gunn/Billy Bones, Charles Vane/Eleanor Guthrie - Freeform, Collars, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, First Meetings, Gender Dysphoria, Genderfluid Character, Hurt/Comfort, Jack is a delight, Jack throws epic holiday parties, Jack/Charles Vane, M/M, Madi/John Silver (past relationship), Max/Eleanor - Freeform, Multi, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Sexual Tension, Sleepovers, Surprise Pairing, maxanne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-18 22:44:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13110054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salatuh/pseuds/salatuh
Summary: Hello, everyone!I got caught up in that picture of Luke Arnold holding a glass of alcohol at a party, and decided to write a fic about it. :DI will update tags as I update this fic. Rated Mature for later chapters. :)Happy holidays, enjoy the hurt/comfort!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brasspetal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brasspetal/gifts).



The room was lit much too brightly, the overly cheery holiday music was definitely _not_ making John Silver feel any more holly or jolly, and the bustling of people all around failed to pull his attention away from the couple he was zoned in on...well, more like on _her_...

Silver watched her delicate hand cup Julius’ shoulder, watched as she threw her head back in a genuine heartfelt laugh. He used to make her laugh just like that, before everything went south…

He pulled on the hair band around his wrist and let it snap, over and over. John picked up his martini, swallowed the last bit, and looked on.

Madi, smiling warmly to Julius. Madi, chuckling with Charlotte and Abigail. Madi, so full of joy. Madi, surrounded by people that could love her better than John ever could. Madi, staring right at him.

“Shit,” he breathed out. He couldn’t avert his eyes, however. They were stuck. Trapped. Staring right back at Madi. The smile fell from her face, the bright gleam in her eyes dulled. He wasn’t more than three meters from her. If he could get his limbs to move, he could walk right over to her, say what was on his mind. Tell her how very—

“Ahem.”

John startled out of his thoughts at the short cough behind him. He snapped his head around, his body followed of its own volition. He took in the evergreen cable knit sweater first, then the freckled skin peeking out above it, the gold hoop earring pierced through this man’s right ear, and the thick, fidgeting fingers that kept brushing back auburn locks that failed to stay back away from curling over his forehead in an endearing manner. John swallowed as the man curtly raised his shockingly viridian eyes beneath golden eyelashes and looked back down to the martini he held out to him.

“Um, saw you might need a refill,” green eyes gruffed out. Was that a… _blush_ crawling up his neck?

John bit his lip and smiled. He eyed the glass, however, put his own down beside him on a coffee table, and crossed his arms.

“How do I know you didn’t slip something in it?”

The man startled, taken aback by the statement. John quirked his eyebrow in response. Green eyes hardened and turned to slits. He raised the glass to his lips and took a healthy sip of the drink, staring at John squarely as he did it.

“There,” he said after a swallow. He cleared his throat. “Better?”

This man’s voice; it sounded like shavings of raw honeycomb swirled into a soothing, freshly made cup of lemongrass tea. John hummed and reached for the drink. The pads of his finger tips grazed over warm knuckles holding the stem of the martini glass. He looked at their hands then pulled the glass toward him. John took a hefty swallow. Dry and straight, just how he liked it.

“Sorry about that, uhm…” John looked expectantly at green eyes.

Green eyes was seemingly distracted by his mouth, but broke out of his haze when John stopped and waited. “Oh! I’m um. I’m James, yeah. James,” he brushed his fingers through his hair again with a small smile and looked down to his brown wingtip shoes.

”James,” John said. _James…_ his name swirled around in his mind. _James..._  “Thank you. Yeah, I get a bit — well, wary, really — of taking offered drinks at parties…” John shook his head and rolled onto the balls of his feet then back down. He took another sip and looked around the room over James’ shoulder before landing back on him again.

James didn’t seem upset, much to John’s surprise. He expected him to stomp away, if he were being honest with himself. But instead, James just nodded in understanding, and took hold of the glass when offered to him.

He sipped and hummed. “It is understandable,” he said with an empathetic grin. “I’m glad that if this drink is indeed spiked, at least we’ll only be under the influence of _dear_ _old_ _Jack’s_ ploy to take us to bed.”

John snorted and grinned. “You know Jack, too eh?”

James smiled wider and nodded. John took in the faint etches of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes.

“We were in uni together, believe it or not,” John furrowed his eyebrows just a bit. Jack was closer to his age, which was… at least ten years younger than this lovely _James_ was. “I was his European history professor,” James said then licked the remnants of vodka from his lips. John tracked the movements and moved closer. James shot out a sudden laugh, shook his head and passed the drink back. “He was such a mouthy bastard in class. He used to debate me on the most nonsensical little things. I would indulge his whims until I finally realized that he was just trying to get me off topic and let the class out early.”

John nearly choked on his drink as laughed. “Sounds like Jack, alright,” he said. “He’s mouthy _and_ snarky at the studio, too. Always trying to tell us how to ‘properly’ land our poses. I think he forgets that he's the _advertising_ director, not the art director.”

He set the glass alongside his first on the table beside him and brushed his palm on his steel grey slacks. He watched James track the movements. He watched his lips part, his eyes scan up his body. He watched him clear his throat and start to speak.

“I’m going to get us another martini to share,” John said. He bent closer for a moment, then pulled back. He took in a steadying breath through his nose and blew it out. He ran a hand through his own locks of deep chestnut curls, about chin length and burly. He did his best to seem xenial. “Unless you’d like something different, James?” John threw his thousand-watt smile on while placing his palm on James’ shoulder.

James closed his mouth, his eyes, and raised up into John’s touch. John pressed into it and waited. “No, no,” James breathed out and smiled back to him. “Martini’s just fine.”

John nodded, then gripped and released his hold on the soft material of James’ sweater. “Be right back,” he said while grabbing hold of the two empty martini glasses. “Don’t go anywhere,” he playfully warned.

James chuckled and shook his head. He fiddled with the gold hoop in his ear and looked back. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

John pat his shoulder and sauntered to the makeshift bar in the kitchen.

Jack Rackham stood tall and flamboyant as ever in his hot pink holiday sweater. He shook and poured martini after martini to his waiting guests.

“Martini, take it or leave it. That is the _only_ alcoholic beverage you are getting out of me tonight, Eleanor, I mean it,” Jack admonished a pouting Eleanor Guthrie. She took her martini with a small glare as she sipped it and walked away to a man with long brown hair and a cozy blanket just waiting to be wrapped around her shoulders. “Ah, Johnny!” Jack leaned over his kitchen counter and placed both hands over the edge. “How can I help you? Martini, or martini?”

John chuckled and placed his empty glasses beside one of Jack’s hands. “Martini, if you please.” John watched as Jack nodded and began mixing vermouth and vodka into a tumblr.

“Jack, I love your sweater. What a bright shade of pink.” John tensed at the sweet amber-like voice so close to him. That voice used to lull him to sleep after a good roll in the sack. That voice used to tell him how gorgeous he performed on stage, how beautiful he was off stage… John took to pulling back and snapping his hair band against his wrist.

Jack turned around and poured the vodka martini in a fresh glass. “Now, now, Madi. As a costume designer you should know better,” Jack teased with a raised eyebrow. He placed the glass in front of John and gave a small apologetic smile before turning his attention to John’s ex. “It’s _fuschia_ . Not pink. Honestly, where did you get your degree from? _FIDM_?”

John side-eyed Madi. She tsked and shook her head in that tell tale manner that meant _“really? Are you going to go that route?”_ Yeah, John knew that look all too well.

“I was just trying to be nice, Jack,” her voice was clipped. _Ahh, she’s annoyed._ John smirked mirthlessly then gulped down half of the martini. He turned to leave but an arm, strong as iron, held him back. “John, wait.”

He closed his cerulean eyes and held his breath and counted backward from ten. He exhaled through his mouth then dared to turn and look at Madi head on. “Excuse me.” His eyes were blue flames that spat fire in her direction.

Madi looked up imploringly. She was mahogany wood that he would burn through and leave charred if they kept at this. “Don’t you want to hear what I have to say?” She whispered, but the words cut him deeply despite their soft reveal.

He turned away and watched the vermouth and vodka swirl in a clear vortex, leading to an invisible but definite end. “There’s nothing to say,” his throat clicked. Her arm dropped heavily at her side, and John walked on.

“You look beautiful this evening, John.”

He stopped in his tracks. His heart sped up in his chest as his stomach dropped. Madi couldn’t say crueler words. _Don’t look back,_ he told himself.

He turned the corner back into the main living room. James leaned against the wall, one hand continually combing back his hair while he thumbed away on his phone screen with the other. John shook his head and put on his best attempt at cheerfulness.

“Ahh, here we are,” John turned and stood in front of James. James quickly thumbed out what seemed to be a message on his phone and tucked the device into his back pocket. He smiled and took the offered martini, but looked at its half-finished state with a questioning eye. “I took liberties in drinking the first bit, so as to make sure that it was not, in fact, spiked by Jack.”

James chuckled and smiled warmly at him while he sipped on their martini. “Ah, I see,” he smacked his lips and nodded in a mock show of sagely understanding.

John stood nearly toe to toe with James. He looked over James’ shoulder and saw Madi walk out the kitchen with her own martini in hand. She stared, a blank expression on her face, then perked up as soon as Julius came and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. John lowered his gaze to the space on the floor between him and James.

“Say, James,” he murmured and stepped ever closer. John slowly, like a flame licking up a stone wall, trailed his eyes up over James’ body until he stared back. He felt more than heard James clear his throat. “Would you like to get the fuck out of this place with me?”

John watched the blush return full force up James’ neck and face. James took in his face with a hooded gaze. John observed his pupils expand and contract in a tell tale sign of arousal. Such an intense gaze. John could drown in those fractalled forests.

James blinked away and turned his head. John pulled back and waited for rejection, but a warm hand tugged him close instead. John quietly gasped as James downed the last of the vodka martini. He placed the empty glass down on the coffee table and moved his hair back one more time. This time, when James smiled, his teeth gleamed with it.

“I would very much like that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaalllright. Things get kind of heated in this chapter...

John slid into the Uber after James with a loose grin on his face. The car was warmer than the snowy chill outside, and the backseat was small enough that they were connected from shoulder to hip. Heat pooled in John’s stomach and cascaded down below his belt buckle. They fastened their seatbelts and sat with a charged silence flowing about them. James’ hand twitched where it lay beside John’s in the space where their seatbelts clicked. Their knuckles brushed. Their breathing was tepid and shallow.

The Uber drove away from the front of Jack’s house. John rubbed the back of his hand against James, then spread his legs so that his left knee and thigh were flush together. He looked out the window at the frost-covered oak tree in the front yard beyond the U-shaped driveway. Jack’s house grew smaller and smaller the more distance the car made down the road to John’s apartment. His heart thumped in his chest in anticipation of what their evening together could entail.

John ran through a mental checklist of items necessary for a good proper evening romping. He had condoms and lube in his nightstand drawer, if he recalled. His mind ran wild with ideas of how they could couple in his bed. John pinning James to the mattress, biting at his freckled chest while he ground down on top of him… Or maybe James would rather be on top? He had that feral glint in his eyes when they left the party that promised more when they would be alone. John flushed at the idea of James slowly opening him up then shoving in without pause. James gripping his dark curls at the nape of his neck and sinking his teeth in beneath his jaw. James whispering in his ear while he worked him up to full hardness, saying _“you look beautiful, John.”_

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself. John shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He plucked at his hair band until they got on the highway. He finally looked over to James.

He was on his phone, left leg jiggling as he tapped away. He leaned into John’s touch, but was staring religiously at the screen. His ginger brows were furrowed, he kept playing with the piercing in his ear, and yet, his leg pressed harder into John’s.

John pulled out his phone and opened up the messenger screen. He tapped at the top to make a new text, then coughed in James’ direction. James jolted his head up. John sheepishly smiled and handed his phone over to James. James quietly smirked and took the phone, tapped his information in, sent himself a text, and handed it back while rolling his lips over his teeth.

James fiddled with his phone and John watched those three conversation dots blip on his own cell screen, then go away. James coughed, side eyed John, then went back to typing.

 **James H.F.:** _I don’t exactly know what to say._

John looked down at his screen then back up at James. He was drumming the fingers of his right hand atop his knee.

 **John Silver:** _Nervous?_

James hummed at that and nodded. John dropped his left hand and walked it across his own thigh with two fingers. They nudged at James’ knuckles. He paused his drumming. John looked at James with a small silent request to touch. James leaned back in his seat and turned his palm up. John smiled and looked down. He walked his fingers along the trail of veins on James’ wrist, then moved down and settled in his palm. His fingertips traveled in a circular motion.

John hummed quietly. He picked up his phone with his right hand and tapped out another message.

 **John Silver:** _How do you feel now?_

James shifted in his seat, his fingers bent but relaxed after a moment. He tapped a reply with his left hand.

 **James H.F.:** _Less nervous, more…_

John felt James warm palm enclose over his fingers. He flattened his hand and laced their fingers together. He felt heat creep up his collarbones to his ears. Thank goodness his coat and hair covered his blush.

 **James H.F.:** _How are you feeling?_

John swallowed. How _was_ he feeling? What a loaded question. He smiled mirthlessly and shook his head.

 **John Silver:** _Quite cozy, but my bed is cozier. ;)_

 **James H.F.:** _Is that so? ;)_

James cleared his throat and squeezed their hands together. He picked up his phone and began tapping away. John looked down at his phone and found no chat bubble. John watched James run his hand through his hair again and again before he turned his head and looked out the window. He watched James’ hair flop back over his forehead again and again without fail. He bit his lip and eyed his black hair band.

“Here,” he murmured. He untangled their fingers and pulled off his hair band, then offered it to James. James looked at it with a seemingly confused stare. John breathily chuckled under his breath. “May I?” He leaned over James just a bit, and bent his arms up. James paused mid hair-comb and caught on. He pursed his lips then let out a small cough and nodded. He bent his head down, and John moved forward.

Thick, silky strands of auburn locks ran through his fingers. Below them lay James’ warm smooth scalp. John felt James’ hum up through his fingertips while he roved over the top of his head in a softly scraping motion. The heat in his gut spread further to his chest, his hips, his shoulders, the tops of his thighs. John felt James’ breath on his collarbone, felt his knee press into the inside of his hip. He held the top half of James’ hair in his upturned palm, then gently tugged it back. A puff of warm, wet air flushed over John’s sweating neck. John focused on wrapping the hair band once, then twice around the plait of hair, then pulled on the small ponytail that flared out in the back, securing it in place.

John stared at James’ flushed expression. He had such plush lips, exquisitely sharp cheekbones, and the smallest hint of grey at his temples that left John wanting to run the pads of his fingers over them...so he did.

“There,” he whispered.

James’ breath mingled with his own in the centimeters between their mouths. Their shared heat created a magnetic pull, one that John found himself falling victim to. James brought a twitching hand up and pressed it to one of John’s. John scraped his fingernails over the side of James’ head. There was a sudden warmth on his side. John quietly gasped; his breath spread over James’ face. He melted into James’ hold on him and looked into his smoldering gaze.

The car stopped, and the Uber driver coughed, then turned his eyes up to his rearview mirror. John looked out of the window and noticed they were in front of his apartment building. He slowly pulled away and dropped his head between his shoulders. His dark curls cascaded around his face and hid his mild embarrassment at being caught by the driver in a moment of… well he wouldn’t call it intimacy. Intimacy was for lovers. He’d known James for barely more than an hour. There was no room for intimacy to bloom in that short amount of time, right?

“Thank you,” John said to the driver. They both unbuckled and climbed out of the car onto his quiet street.

Before them stood a tall apartment complex, lined on either side by more buildings of a similar fashion. The Uber drove off with a mechanic whoosh, leaving them alone on the sidewalk. A rush of cold air shoved by John’s neck and shoulder. James came and stood by his side, wrapped an arm around his waist, and waited. John heavily leaned into the embrace and played with the ponytail on the back of James’ head. He nosed the side of James’ neck and breathed in his woodsy cologne. It reminded him of a pine forest fresh in the spring. And beneath the layers of cologne and vermouth and vodka, lay a scent that was all James; deep and rich, musky yet sharp. It was intoxicating.

John held the groan building in his throat. He put a hand in his pocket and adjusted his heated flesh in a quick fashion. He pulled back and ran a hand through his own locks.

“Shall we?”

±±±±

As soon as he closed his apartment door, John was on him in an instant.

He planted his palms on either side of James’ head, then pushed a thigh between his legs and rubbed. James gasped, his breath hitched as John’s chest came flush to his.

God, John wanted to hear more of those delectable noises from James. He moaned and slid their foreheads together. They panted out in a cacophony of pent up energy. The heat between them grew and spread.

John dragged his hands down and dug them into the tops of James’ shoulders. He looked into his eyes and smiled while licking his lips. He tilted his face up. He could almost taste the final traces of martini on James’ open mouth.

“W-wait,” James stuttered. He tucked his chin. John pulled away just the slightest bit. He watched his eyebrows pull up, that flush come back in full force, blending with the freckles on his creased forehead. Just the sound of their wet breaths filled the entryway while John waited for James to continue. He chuckled after a few racing heartbeats and drove down to lick at James’ neck.

“Still nervous, hm?” John breathed out. _Goodness,_ James was addictive. Hot hands grabbed at his waist while he undulated forward. They held him close, then still when he tried to rub against James’ growing bulge in his trousers.

“I-I,” John felt James shudder under his lips. “I just haven’t done this before.”

The pull of the alcohol thrumming through his veins gave him pause for the briefest of moments. He lapped up under James’ chin then nibbled at his ear.

“Never been with a man before, you mean?” John breathed.

James chuckled then hiccuped and gasped. John looked up when James shook his head and lightly tugged on John’s waist. “Ohhooo _no_ ,” he bit his lip with a mischievous grin and stared at John’s lips. He swallowed and looked to their connected hips. “I’ve definitely been with a man before,” he dragged his darkening eyes up John’s heaving chest, then flicked them up to his hungry gaze. “Just not, like — like this.”

John mirrored his stare. He moved his palms up to the back of James’ neck. It was like fire was burning up underneath his skin, and he had to let it out before it combusted inside him. He nodded then moved back, dropped his arms at his sides, and kept staring on. He took another step back. And stared. Then another. And stared with a tilted grin. John looked up then down then back up James’ disheveled stance against his door.

James gulped then pushed off the door, stuck in John’s trance.

John’s grin grew wider, his eyes darker. He took one more step back then turned around walking casually to his bedroom with a small sway in his hips. Footsteps followed behind him. As soon as he reached his open door, John twirled around on the balls of his feet to face James. He stretched his arms up and grabbed at the door frame, hanging from it and eyeing James while biting his lower lip.

James hovered ever closer. His hands drummed by his sides, his cheek twitched as he panted out. John watched as James took in his lean, lithe frame with the look of a man famished. James panted and leaned just out of reach. He looked up at John desperately.

“Jesus, do you know how you look?” James wheezed.

John lifted his legs off the floor and rocked his hips forward. He wrapped his legs around James’ waist and dragged him closer. He laughed when James let out a punched groan and gripped his thighs. Such strong hands. John let go of the door frame and looped his arms around James’ neck. He brushed their noses together and smiled.

“The performance reviews all say I’m quite… _‘enthralling, captivating, enchanting’..._ on stage,” he murmured. James stood in place, his stance wide as he lightly rocked with John in his hold. John tugged on the ginger locks at the base of James’ neck. “Take me to bed.”

James groaned out like a wounded animal, swaying once, then again until he finally seemed to gain the courage to move them to John’s waiting, welcoming mattress. John hummed appreciatively in the back of his throat then moaned out when James laid on top of him on the bed. He bent his legs on either side of James’ hips and rolled up. He chased after James’ lips and came up empty. James cradled John’s face in his palms and rubbed their foreheads together.

“John, I need to te—mmm.”

John finally found purchase in his lips — _so hot, wet, warm, smooth —_ and felt James melt into the kiss. That heat bloomed up full force between them. He bracketed James’ hips and pulled him down against his groin. His hands dove into James’ hair, undoing the tie. Their mouths pressed and slicked together in harmony. Open, close, lick, suck, bite, nibble, moan, grunt, groan, shake ginger head then pull away.

“What’s wrong?” John chased after his mouth again, and James just shook his head again and pressed a palm to John’s chest.

James shifted his hips down and around in a circular motion. He ran a hand through his hair and pulled at the piercing in his ear. “I’ve never had another man,” he said.

John shook his head in confusion. “Didn’t you _just_. _Say_. That you’ve been with a man before?”

James nodded and leaned down. “Just not _another_ one…”

Realization dawned on John like a slap to his face. James kept coming closer and closer, those green eyes looked like false hope.

“John, let me explain—”

“What the fuck is there to explain? You’ve got someone else, and you’re what?” John unwinded himself, shoved hard at James’ sweater-covered chest. He snorted at James’ furrowed brow. _Cheater._  “Using me to get some _fun_ in your dull life? What? Is he not treating you right? So you just come, here and—” His chest tightened, he couldn’t meet James’ saddened look. “And _use me_ to get back at him? He not enough for you? Is that it?”

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ judge me!” James snapped out. His face was red, but not with nerves, not with embarrassment. Spittle flew from his mouth and fell around John. James’ shoulders moved up and down around his ears as he took in gulps of breath. “You don’t get to _shame_ me. Not when you know _nothing_ about me,” he swallowed and leaned away. “Or Thomas.”

John fell back and crawled up his bed. He wasn’t expecting such rage. He gulped and looked away. He shook his head, pinched his eyes closed and sighed out. James went to move away but John gripped his wrist instead, keeping him on the bed. “That’s his name? Thomas, your… significant other?”

John looked up and watched James’ shoulders sag, him breathe out through his nose and nod. “Yes,” he said.

John nodded along, stretched his legs back out and placed them beside James on his bed. “And he knows about—” John pointed between the two of them. “This?”

James pushed his hair back and nodded again, his blush fading away. “And I’m not trying to _use_ you for anything,” he said with a small sad glare. James wrapped his hand around John’s wrist in return. “And it’s not about not being enough,” he shook his head and looked down. “Not at all. It’s,” he sighed and gave a small sympathetic smile. “It’s about happiness, really. About sharing happiness.”

John tried his best to wrap his mind around all of this new information. Sharing? Sharing happiness? And this Thomas knew? It still didn’t sit right with him. And James had said he'd never done this before...

"And you've never...had another before?" John asked. 

James swallowed and nodded, eyes turned down. "I've never had another man before, no."

John nodded in return.

“Call him.”

“Excuse me?”

John looked up with a new fire in his eyes. “You heard me. Call him, your Thomas,” he shook his hair back behind him and raised his eyebrows. “I just need to make sure you really do have his...blessing or whatever.”

James jaw slacked for a moment, then he clicked his mouth closed and nervously chuckled to himself. He moved his hips up and grabbed his phone out of his back pocket. “I have his permission,” he said with a raised eyebrow. He tapped on his screen, pressed the speaker on, then laid the phone face up between them on the bedspread. James squeezed his wrist and ran his fingers up and down his pulse point in a soothing manner.

The line rang. John stared at the phone with full focus.

“Hello darling.” Thomas’ soft, baritone voice lilted out of the speaker. “How is your evening going with the raven haired beauty?”

John swallowed and leaned into his pillows. He looked up at James with a small sympathetic grimace of his own. They stared, caught in a tense moment of understanding.

“James,” Thomas’ voice gained a steely edge. “Is everything alright? Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? Where are you? Send me your location.”

James immediately bent forward over the phone and tapped to another screen while he spoke. “I’m just fine, Tomtom…” he said. James looked at him with concern evident in his expression.

John cleared his throat. “We’re alright,” he said. James’ expression turned hopeful. “I just wanted him to call so I could thank you for allowing James to…” He moved forward and leaned over to James. “For allowing James to share his happiness with me... for the evening.”

James sagged and smiled. His hair flopped back into his face. John picked up his black hair band in the mess of blankets between them while Thomas’ warm light laugh filled the air.

“Yes, he is quite charming, isn’t he?”

John watched James blush crawl up his neck once more. He mirthlessly chuckled in response and nodded while brushing James’ locks back and securing his hair back in the hair band.

“Incredibly so.”

“John, is it?”

John paused his brushing of James’ locks down on the back of his neck and looked him in the eye with a question.

“Yes?”

James swallowed and started to speak when Thomas’ voice interrupted.

“We saw your debut with The Ranger’s latest showcase. Found your name in the playbill after..." John looked at James with a bit of surprise. 

"You've seen me perform?" he whispered to James. James stammered but couldn't muster a response.

"John...what a lovely name…” John felt heat creep up to his small ears at the oddly endearing way Thomas said his name. “Listen, John. How about you join us for Christmas dinner later this week?”

James began coughing and choking on his own spit in front of John. His eyes flicked between his phone screen and John’s flustered face in speedy repetition. He shook his head, little ponytail swishing behind him, “I don’t know wh—”

“How do you know I don’t have any plans for the holiday?”

James looked at John with wide eyes, a small accusatory glint and then stared at his phone.

John heard the smile in Thomas’ voice. “Well, you haven’t exactly declined, and you’re obviously still enjoying my James — _you're welcome,_ by the way.” John shrugged and laid his head on James’ shoulder. He felt a tentative hand on the back of his neck, fingertips rubbed in soothing circles. “I’ll take those as good indications that you would be open to the idea of a nice home cooked Christmas dinner.”

John looked down to the screen and chuckled into James’ shoulder. “You are _quite_ smug.”

James shook with quiet laughter beneath John. “See Tomtom? Told you so.”

“Oh hush,” Thomas’ laughter was bright through the speaker. James and John sighed in unison.

“I suppose I can stop by,” John said with a tentative smile. He shuffled closer to James. James brought a hand up and brushed his fingers through John’s hair.

“Excellent, excellent. James will give you all the details.” James rubbed the back of his own neck and threw his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Have a good evening. Be good to him.”

The line clicked and James’ phone screen blinked that the call had ended. John didn’t know who Thomas meant his last words for, but he knew he would abide by them nonetheless.

James reached over and picked up his phone. He held it in the palm of his hand like a stone, flipping it over and over. John plucked the phone from his hands and laid it on his nightstand. He leaned back and pulled on James’ wrist to follow. James laid beside him on the bed. His eyes were fixed on the corner of John’s dark blue button down shirt.

“He seems...confident,” John quietly stated. He swallowed down the last bits of discontent and kicked off his shoes.

James plopped down beside him and nodded. “Yup, that’s Thomas.”

John took in a deep breath all the way down to his stomach then slowly released in a steady stream. He snapped his head in James’ direction and furrowed his brows. “Did you really send him your location?” James broke out in a choppy laugh and nodded. "And you got _permission_ to spend the evening with me... Which means you... asked, right?" James swallowed and tilted his head toward John. He slowly nodded again, lips parted. John shook his head in disbelief. “ _Why_?”

James finally met his questioning glance with full steadiness. “Because I wanted to.”

John did his best to school his expression into a blank canvas. He hesitated before moving closer to James on the bed. His fingers played with the edge of James’ green sweater sleeve. “It makes you happy? Doing what he wants?”

James’ throat bobbed in front of him. He met his eyes and saw the certainty set in stone. James fiddled with his gold hoop earring while he responded. “Yes, it does.”

John bit his lip and nodded with a hum.

“So, just making sure, you _do_ want me to stay… right?” James seemed apprehensive. His shoulders were stiff, his free hand thrumming against his hip. “Or, am I reading the signals wrong. Thomas says I’m rather obtuse when it comes to reading signals; it’s really quite true. I just want to make cer—”

“Yes,” John interrupted his rambling. He moved closer still and brushed his nose over the side of James’ cheek. He felt James’ breath hitch in his chest. “Yes, James. I’d like you to stay.”

James immediately relaxed beside him. His breath pushed out over his face. John felt a warm hand palm up his side. “Alright.”

John kissed along his jaw and met his wet lips with a gentle press. James softly moaned beside him; he gripped his button down and pulled it out of his trousers as John did the same to his undershirt beneath the evergreen sweater. Their kiss stayed soft and gentle, at John’s pace.

“But I don’t know if…” John pulled back just a bit and ran his fingers over James’ warm skin beneath the sweater. He nervously laughed. “I don’t know if I can, you know, have you _fuck me raw,_ or what have you...” James froze his movements and pulled back as well. John chewed on his lip and released it with a sigh. “I’m sorry, it’s just this is all so new to me. I— I’m not used to the whole _transparent poly_ thing. And I have absolutely no problem with it in concept, I just…”

John watched a relaxed smile spread across James’ lips. The nod of understanding.

“It's alright,” James said. John relaxed into James’ hold of his sides, felt his palms wrap around his back under the shirt. Their warmth sank into his skin with a welcoming draw. “But you still want me to stay the evening…”

John nodded and smiled. James grew on him, settled him in a way he hadn't quite felt before. He brushed his lips against his again, waited for his mouth to part. He flicked his tongue out to touch James’, like two flames meeting and ebbing away. “Stay, sleep here,” he whispered. A yawn escaped his mouth. They both chuckled. John pillowed his head on James’ chest. “You can explain this whole Christmas dinner thing to me when we wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heheheh... I plan on a big final Christmas Dinner chapter, guys. May take me a few days to update. 
> 
> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr @silversexual so we can talk about piratey things together! :D 
> 
> Happy Holidays, 
> 
>  
> 
> <3 Maze


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaalright. So!  
> Let's pretend that England has American-style Foursquare homes. Shhhh...it's fiction. 
> 
> Aside from that, there are a few reveals in this. I hope you enjoy the plunge into the deep end with John... ;)

John stood at the gate before him and was settled by the picturesque abode of normalcy. Beyond it stood a large, creme and green two-story Foursquare house with four main windows on either side, along with a circular stained glass window above, emanated a warm gentle glow. Smoke plumed from the cement and boulder chimney as John checked the time on his phone, the address on the mailbox in front of him, and nodded. Snow fell on the frosty lawn that he traversed as he eyed the little pockets of grass that poked out alongside the stoney walkway. John sniffled at the slight chill that blew over his face before he reached the deep oak door.

He held the neck of a wine bottle in his left hand, then carefully pressed the doorbell with his right. Soft, growing footsteps rushed toward the door. He saw a blur of green through the glass paneling at the top of the door right before it swung open.

John took a step back and quirked his head. “Ben?”

Ben Bones bounced on the balls of his feet as he smiled cheerily. He wore a green elf hat, tasseled with little brass bells, a matching green sweater vest, and khaki slacks.

“Johnny! Quick!” He said while moving back onto the stairwell behind him then taking a running start. He gracefully jumped into a _petit_ _jete,_ arms raised over his head and eyes shut in a trusting manner. “Catch me.”

John was quick to place the wine on the ground and bend a knee, planting a foot firmly in front, his other outstretched for balance. He smiled as Ben gracefully landed with a socked foot on his bent thigh, the other up and out to the side. John braced his waist and looked up with a chuckle.

Ben opened his eyes with a grin, then suddenly started falling over when Billy came up and grabbed his upturned foot, tickling the underside.

“God damn it, Billy, can’t you see I’m trying to have a majestic moment in the snow with my fellow dancer?”

John nervously smiled as Billy picked up Ben and held him in his arms, played with the bells on his hat, and walked them back into the house. He took the wine bottle and slowly walked past the threshold.

“What are you two doing here?” John asked with a small lilt in his voice.

Billy carefully placed Ben back on his own two feet then kissed the top of his head before turning to John.

“Oh, Mr. Hamilton, you know, my boss from the firm?” Billy pointed behind him.

John nodded and raised a brow. “Yeah? Thomas Hamil—” John shook his head. It was all clicking in place. Billy had mentioned more than a few times that he was _‘absolutely the luckiest paralegal secretary on the planet_ ’ because his boss, Thomas Hamilton, Esq., treated him like an equal instead of a desk boy. **_That_ ** _Thomas. Lived here. With James…_

“Yeah, Thomas Hamilton. He invited us for Christmas, since we didn’t have shit elsewhere to go,” Billy said. Ben looked up at him then burrowed into his chest.

“Well, damn, that’s rather ironic,” John trailed off. He absently pulled on the black hair band on his wrist, then let it snap back into place. He looked about him and took in the warm, quiet extravagance of the house he just walked into.

To the left of the main staircase was another set of steps that led to what John assumed was a basement. Beneath his black leather loafers were stained oak hardwood floors. To the right of him was a living room with a large open hearth, a few logs lit in the pit, but no one in sight.

“What brings you here this lovely Christmas day?”

John didn’t turn around at Ben’s question.

“I was invited by Thomas, too, actually,” his heart lightly picked up its pace when a familiar ginger head appeared from around the corner of the living room.

“You made it,” James warmly smiled. His hair was tied up in the same fashion John did for him just a few nights prior. The remaining locks curled around his neck and behind his ears. John hadn’t noticed the freckles along the edges of his earlobes that night, but now in the warm light of James’ entryway, he could appreciate them in full.

John fondly returned his smile. John watched the slightest blush crawl up James’ neck. He softly chuckled under his breath at the sight. But something about seeing James so comfortable in his own home had John swallow and look down at the bottle of wine in his now sweating left palm.

“I uh, I brought a small token of my appreciation with me,” he said. John handed the bottle to James with great care.

James twirled the bottle of deep red liquid and read the label. “Chateau Montrose,” his eyebrows raised and he nodded with a small lopsided grin. “That is not easy to find these days. Thank you. Thomas loves red — and so do I, of course.”  

John ducked his head and looked up, meeting James’ deep green eyes. His stomach clenched at that name. An awkward, yet... not completely uncomfortable silence filled the air. He put his hands in his pockets and swayed from side to side. He did his best to keep the grin on his face.

“Well! I’m going to go check and see that our vegan ham hasn’t been burned to bits by the kitchen crew,” Ben chimed in. John broke out of his trance and turned to see Billy scratching the back of his head with a quirked smile as he followed after his husband down a hallway on the other side of the main staircase.

James and John nervously shuffled in place. John looked around and saw no one in sight, he stepped closer to James and took in his deep blue sweater.

“You seem to own a lot of cable knit jumpers,” John noted. James looked up from the bottle and pulled at the bottom of the wool material with a nod.

“Thomas has a thing for me looking like a ‘proper’ Oxford professor,” he shook his head with a raised brow and nervously laughed. “I guess you could say it’s a bit of a _fetish_ for him…”

John felt his stomach clench again at Thomas’ name. He took a deep breath and aimed at loosening his shoulders. _It’s alright,_ he reminded himself. _I was invited...don’t dwell on how — odd this all seems._ He coughed into a fist and licked his lips.

“I didn’t know you taught at Oxford,” he tried to soften the tight grin on his cheeks. He relaxed a bit as soon as those gentle eyes crinkled at the corners. John clicked his tongue and shortly shook his head. “It makes sense, now that I think about it. Jack kept mentioning he got his degree from there.”

“Oh, they have degrees in _knowitall_ -ogy?”

They both broke out in quiet smirks and chuckles. John felt the knot finally loosen in his stomach, a familiar warmth filled the spaces instead.

James softly blew out a breath through his nose. He clasped a hand on John’s shoulder. He could feel the heat emanating, even through the layers of his black sweater and white collared dress shirt beneath.

“Well, shall I give you a quick tour?”

John missed the heat in James’ touch as soon as it was gone. He sighed out, lowering his shoulders that had somehow made their way near his chin, and nodded. “Sure, why not?”

James pointed over John’s right shoulder, “That’s the living room. We’ll have dessert and coffee there after dinner’s served.”

John hummed as James moved in front of him and led him down the hallway on their left. They moved past the dark stairwell. James touched a door knob and nodded to John. “This is the restroom, should you need to use it.”

He pointed to another door beside it. John heard muffled voices behind the wooden frame. “Guest bedroom, where some guests are currently getting ready,” James smirked. “Have you met Jack’s family?”

John shook his head. “I, uh, I’ve met his girlfriend, Anne. But not his family, no.”

“Ahh…” he said. “Well, Anne will be here. And Max from The Ranger? She’ll be here as well as a few others. We’re quite close with them.”

James turned around and slid by John, their shoulders lightly brushed as he moved forward. John kept his hands in his pockets and did his best to ignore the twitch his fingers gave. At least he would know a few familiar faces. He still wondered when he would be meeting Thomas...

James led him to another entryway by the front. “And this is the dining room, where the main event shall occur,” he said with a quiet playful gusto.

An enormous table set for 12 stood before them. John stared in awe at the delicate china and gold-encrusted tableware placed before intricately carved cherrywood seats, studded with black leather cushioning. Tall wine glasses stood beside stout water cups of shimmering crystal. A deep burgundy table runner lay along the length.

Above the table, behind what John presumed to be the head of it, hung a magnanimous painting.

John immediately recognized James’ lovely face in paint form; those fiery locks, shorter than they were these days, the slight smeckling of painted freckles, those evergreen eyes. He wore a black suit with a black shirt. He sat between two figures who stood beside him. One was of a woman, with deep chestnut brown hair that fell to one side. She had twinkling brown eyes that seemed kind and all-knowing — one could even say they were maternal in the care depicted in them. A dark green dress was painted on her frame. Her hands lay on James’ shoulders.

John wondered who this woman might be, if he was to meet her tonight, yet another person in James’ life that John had yet to know about... He swallowed and let his eyes trail onward over the painting.

On the other side of James was a tall, lithe man with short blonde hair and deep blue eyes. He had the slightest lilt of a smile painted on. He wore a steel blue suit, a complimentary contrast to the green of this woman’s dress and the black that James was depicted in. His hands were also clasped over James’ shoulders. John couldn’t help but feel those hands were holding James back in a possessive manner. They claimed him.

“Miranda — the woman in the painting?” John snapped out of his deep enthrallment and turned to James. He had forgotten he was standing right beside him. James’ hands were clasped in front of him. John watched him roll his jaw and take a deep sigh. “She always wanted a portrait done of us. Our dear friend Charles painted this after her passing.” John watched him move forward and gently move his fingertips over Miranda’s painted knuckles.

John turned and faced him. “I’m sorry you lost her. She seems like quite a lovely person, if this painting is anything to go by.”

James nodded and pulled back with a sad smile.

John wished he could take that sadness away. He tried on another smile. “I’m assuming the other... lovely figure is Thomas?”

James nodded again, more animatedly as if breaking out of his melancholic thoughts. “Yes! That would be Thomas,” he clapped his palms together and looked behind him. “Speaking of which, I should probably go check on him and make sure he didn’t fall in the shower upstairs.” John pushed away at that knot attempting to form in his gut again, instead he focused on James small chuckle. “Will you be alright for a few minutes?”

He pulled back and rolled on his heels. “Um, yeah! I should be just fine,” John thought of those words James said that night in an attempt to quell his nerves… _It’s about sharing happiness._ “I’m going to go look for Ben and Billy. The kitchen I’m assuming is through those?” John pointed his thumb in the direction of two french swinging doors.

“Out of the way! Out of the way! Hot vegan ham coming through.” John twitched and turned around as a familiar snarky green bean of a man flitted through the kitchen doors with a silver platter of steaming vegan meat and set it on the table. He watched as Jack wiped his hands on his stained white apron and look up from the ham with a small disgruntled glare. Delighted surprise seemed to wash over his face. “Johnny! What are you doing here?”

John felt James’ pat his back, fingertips trailing along his shoulder blades as he slid them off.

“I’ll be back in a few. Don’t go anywhere,” James playfully winked, then headed out the dining room and bound up the stairs.

John looked on for a few spare moments then absently turned back to Jack with a bright smile. “Well hello there, Jack. What a pleasant surprise,” he chuckled and shook his curls back. “It seems everyone I know is showing up at this house, and I’m the last one to see a connection.”

John walked closer to Jack so that they stood on either side of the table. Jack came over and pulled him in for a hug. “Ohhhh Johnny, Johnny, John,” he said before holding him by his shoulders and bending his neck to smile at him. “It’s so good to see you! Oh goodness,” Jack clicked his teeth together and looked down for a moment. “I guess I should warn you. You’re about to meet my erhm, well, my family.”

John leaned on one hip and chewed on his lower lip. “I heard as much. I thought your parents lived out of the country?”

Jack nervously chuckled and nodded. “Yeah... you’re going to meet my _other_ family. My um, well, how do I put this?”

John watched as Jack played with a metal band on his wrist over and over again while in thought. Jack pointed his index finger in the air as if he was hit with a sudden idea and smiled wider.

“Got it! Alright, well, you remember when we used to watch _The Karate Kid,_ Johnny? Back in high school?” John nodded, a bit confused and wondering where this was going. “Well, I have a Mr. Miyagi of sorts in my life. He’s my… life mentor, you could call it. And you know Eleanor, who always comes to watch our rehearsals? She’s also with this ‘Mr. Miyagi.’”

John watched Jack make quotation marks around that name. “Alright, so you have a Mr. Miyagi, and he is part of your family, as well as Eleanor by proxy…”

Jack nodded quickly. “Correct, and now, wait for it. It gets a bit complicated here,” Jack continued. “You know Anne, the love of my life, the woman who refuses to marry me but won’t give me back my heart? That Anne?”

John nodded and laughed. “Yes I know that Anne, I danced with her just last week for a duet.”

Jack tsked. “Of course I remember, I’m just making sure _you_ are staying with me for this next bit.” John bit his tongue back before laughter bubbled out of him. “Well, Anne also happens to have her _own_ life mentor, too. A… ‘ _Miss_ Miyagi,’ I suppose. That happens to be Max, the choreographer.”

John did his best to not let his head whirl with all this new information. He closed his eyes for a moment. “Max, the choreographer. Is also with Anne as her… life mentor,” Jack nodded. “And you are with Anne. But, you’re also with a life mentor, who happens to also be with Eleanor…”

“Yes, the Mr. Miyagi... whose name is Charles Vane.”

John burst out in laughter and shock. “ _Professor_ Vane? Your art history professor from uni?!”

Jack raised his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, yes. That’s the one.”

John shook his head, he felt his eyebrows raise to his hairline. He pursed his lips, but couldn’t hold back his surprise. “Didn’t you say he fucked the shit out of you after a final once?”

Jack threw his hands in the air and stared at the ceiling as if it would give him solace. “Yes, yes, so what? It’s not a big deal, John. _Goodness_ ,” he said exasperated. “Plus, it wasn’t exactly a typical college romance. He’s very into… balance and rules and things.” John heard Jack’s voice quiet into a more calm demeanor. He saw that small genuine smile flit across his lips, though it was usually reserved for those moments he spoke of Anne. “He’s quite wonderful. And he’s part of my family. You’ll get to finally meet him tonight, too.”

John found himself thinking on what James had told him yet again… “You’re happy, though? The whole lot of you?”

Jack’s smile spread widely across his face as he nodded. “Yes, quite satisfied in life… Now, I have to get back in the kitch—”

“Jack! How long does it _fucking_ take to put a _fucking_ piece of fake meat on a _fucking_ table?”

Anne stormed through the kitchen doors.

John took in a sharp breath. A white-gold necklace hugged close to Anne’s throat, almost as if it were a... collar? But what really caught his attention was her shimmering bronze top that hung off one shoulder. He caught himself raising his hands out to touch, and flicked his eyes down instead. He took in the tweed trousers and beige ballet flats with champagne-colored buckles on top. She looked beautiful.

She agitatedly scratched at her arm and scowled at Jack, who returned the look with an annoyed roll of his eyes.

John coughed and crossed his arms.

Anne turned around, scowl falling from her face and a huge excited grin taking its place. “Johnny!” John found himself holding armfuls of Anne. He laughed and rubbed her back. He took in the feel of her blouse, dedicating its tactile imprint to memory. He coughed again and pulled away.

“Hello there, Anne. Sorry to keep the kitchen waiting,” he said with a small smirk to Jack. “I was just getting _educated_ on the uh, family situation.”

Anne’s eyes widened in understanding. She put her hands in her back pockets and nodded. “Ah, yes, right. The family eh?” She playfully punched Jack’s arm then looped one of hers in his. “Sorry, but I need to get Jack in the kitchen for a moment, he’s supposed to put food on the table or else his _Daddy_ will get testy.”

John choked on a breath and stared at Jack. Jack was staring straight over his head as if Anne was talking about someone else entirely.

He always knew Jack was a bit… not vanilla. He’d as much as confessed it to John back in high school. Told him how Anne had tied him to the bedpost when he lost his virginity to her. And when Jack had come out to him about being into men, well, John came out to him in return. He recalled how they both looked at each other for a few tense moments before one of them took the plunge and kissed the other. It was a terrible and hilarious affair. He remembered Jack awkwardly pulling away with a small dissatisfied frown before he held out his hand in offering of them just staying friends. _“No offense, Johnny. You’re a good looking guy, but you’re just not my type.”_

John chuckled and bit his lip. He shuffled his foot against the floor and nodded instead. “Well, don’t let me hold you two up.”

Jack swallowed and nervously smiled. His bravado quickly returned. “We’ll be right back, Johnny. I’d invite you back with us, but it’s quite hectic in there.”

John waved goodbye as Jack and Anne hobbled through the swinging doors. He stood alone in the dining room. He slowly turned around and took in the table setting. There were little name cards on each plate. This _Thomas_ really liked to go all out in extravagance, didn’t he? John snorted, but bent down and searched for his own.

Anne and Jack came through the doors carrying hot plates of food in tandem. “Watch out, Johnny,” Jack threw in his direction. John immediately scooted back toward the head of the table. He wondered where Ben and Billy had gone, and when James would return… with Thomas in tow. Or would it be the other way around? Would Thomas come down with _James_ in tow? He really wasn’t sure.

John pursed his lips and looked at the portrait instead. He flicked his hair band against his wrist. Those steel blue eyes seemed to bore into him.

“Ah! At long last.”

John’s head immediately turned to the sound of that smooth baritone voice from the other evening. Before him stood an animated version of the man in the portrait. His hair had more grey than blonde, his eyes held a warmth that John felt guilty for not expecting now that they beheld him, and his lips spread in a genuine smile.

“John, it’s so very wonderful to finally meet you.”

Thomas Hamilton politely held out his hand. John noted the wedding band on his ring finger and a gold chain with a small key around his neck. He stopped himself from looking back to the painting to see if Miranda had a matching band. He didn’t recall James having a ring on. He felt like he was meeting James’ father figure instead of his… well. Would Thomas consider himself James’ partner? His equal?

John quickly nodded and stepped forward instead. His long fingers gently enveloped his hand. He focused on the soothing warmth that emanated from him, then acknowledged his solid, firm handshake. _Shit, what do I call him?_

“Hello, Sir.”

The words left John’s mouth before he could think to stop them. He swallowed around the rising anxiety in his throat and chest, but kept eye contact nonetheless. He didn’t know if he could muster a masked smile. He felt slightly frozen in place, as if waiting for a command on what to do next.

Thomas fondly nodded and cupped his other palm over their joined hands. He didn’t correct John from saying anything different. John bit on his bottom lip again. _Smug._

“Please, have a seat,” Thomas gestured toward the corner seat to his left while he sat at the head of the table. John looked to the corner seat and found his name written in a neat scroll on top of the plate. He was taken aback. “Aren’t the little name cards wonderful? It was James’ idea. He knows I like organization. Plus, we haven’t had our table fully seated in quite some time. A little extra flair never hurt anyone.”

John pulled what was to be his chair for the evening out and cautiously sat down. He found himself grinning along with Thomas, nonetheless. It was a contagious smile. John picked up his name card and observed what was James’ handwriting in closer detail.

“Yes, they’re… quaint,” he coughed as he held the card between his fingers. He felt himself flush when Thomas’ eyes tracked his throat bobbing. John’s emotions battled for dominance in his mind; he absolutely felt nervous, that he was sitting beside this man at the head of the table. But the dread he initially felt all day had washed away... He kept his eyes back down on the card for a few heartbeats then looked back up around the table.

Jack, sans apron, came in with Anne and sat at the farthest corner of the table from John. A man with vaguely familiar long brown hair that reached his shoulders, silver-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, a grey cardigan and black slacks strolled into the room behind them, then came and sat beside Jack, near the center of the table. _This must be Charles Vane_ , John thought. He'd seen him in passing at the holiday party...

A sleep-addled Eleanor walked in from around the corner, dressed in a salmon knee-length dress. She rubbed her eye and lazily smiled at the room while she waved and took the other corner seat on John’s side of the table.

“Dinner time, yay!” Ben quietly clapped to himself while he entered the room with Billy behind him. John smiled when he saw Billy and Ben sit closer to him on his side of the table. He didn’t see a name card on the plate beside his, however… Didn’t Thomas say they would have a full house this evening?

John was pulled out of his thoughts when he saw who was at the doorway. In walked Max, The Ranger’s choreographer, in a deep red shimmering gown, not unlike the material of Anne’s blouse. John swallowed as he took in the lovely plunging neckline of the dress, how it accentuated her curves without seeming vulgar, but rather elegant instead. She gracefully strolled over to Thomas and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Merci, Thomas. She really needed the nap,” she said in her rolling French accent.

John watched Thomas pat her shoulder. “Of course, Madame. Anytime, the guest room is available for you to use.”

John’s ears perked at the title. _Madame?_

Max smiled and waved to John as if she already knew he would arrive.

John hesitated but raised a hand and waved back with a tilted head. He kept his eyes above the table, avoiding the temptation he felt to see what kind of heels she wore that could click so quietly against hardwood floors. Max walked on and took her seat at the other end of the table. Anne and Eleanor both took to leaning against her shoulders as soon as she was seated.

John’s throat felt dry. He saw a pitcher of water in front of him and leaned forward to fill his cup.

“Oh, John, please,” Thomas stopped his movements and gripped the pitcher handle. “Allow me.”

John pulled his hands back and laid them on his lap. He watched as Thomas expertly held the crystal glass steady with one hand and tilted the chilled glass pitcher with the other. He felt unease creep up his spine.

“That's not necessary, really,” John said to his lap. His arms felt like they were made of lead.

“Of course it’s not _necessary_ ,” Thomas gently replied. John raised his eyes to see if the smile in his voice was really there as he imagined it would be. Thomas’ took to filling his own glass of water with a small shrug. “But you’re our guest. It’s my pleasure to serve you.”

Thomas flashed a brilliant smile that nearly blinded John. He suddenly turned his neck toward the doorway. John followed the movements. He didn’t think his chest could get any tighter.

James stood with his hands behind his perfectly postured back. His eyes were lowered to the floor, yet he held his head level with the rest of them. Around his neck was a thick gold band with a padlock in the front. John was amazed at how the collar seemed to accentuate his flushed face, his freckled skin, his pulled back ginger locks, and that gold earring. It suited James, like a properly fitted glass slipper, only much more... permanent.

John caught James’ eyes flick to his before he cleared his throat. John held his breath as James’ opened his mouth to speak.

“Sir,” he said. That roughened voice, just like the first time John heard it flow over him, was still as refreshing and warming. “May I sit beside you?”

John watched with tense muscles. His eyes flitted to the gold key around Thomas’ neck, then back to the collar on James’. James waited by the door without moving a single inch. Calm and poised, despite his obvious discomfort. _Was he embarrassed because of me?_ John wondered. He gave James a small reassuring smile. 

Thomas cleared his own throat and placed both hands on top of the table. He turned to James. John saw Thomas’ brightest smile yet take over his entire expression — not just his face, but his body language, as well. It was as though James’ request was the greatest thing he’d ever uttered to him.

“Yes, my love,” he said with a gentle nod. “You may.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things aren't always as they seem. And that is not always a bad thing. <3

John’s heart leapt up into his throat when James finally moved to sit on the other side of Thomas. James returned his nervous grin with one of his own.

He pulled his chair closer to the table. They both watched Thomas pour James a glass of water. The liquid settled in its upturned crystal cave. The deep red table runner reflected in the glass, it looked like wine. John observed how James kept his head tilted toward Thomas the entire time.

“Thank you, Sir,” James said. John noted how his blush failed to fade away, how his eyes flicked over to him in what seemed to be mild confusion, then quickly focused back on his… what exactly did one consider Thomas to James? 

John watched him swallow, heard his throat click. “May I drink some water, please?”

A lump grew in John’s throat, like a stone held up in an unnatural fashion by a knot rooted in his gut. His hands grew clammy at James’ unusual request. _His cup was right there,_ he thought.

He took a deep breath and reminded himself that this was not his place to judge. He wiped his sweaty palms on his slacks. He couldn’t help but feel like his pants and shirt were sticking to his body in a constricting fashion. John’s head snapped at Thomas’ quiet suppressed laugh.

Thomas reached out and gently tugged on James’ gold earring while he nodded his head. James seemed to lean into the touch, his eyes closed shut as his lips parted. “Yes you may, darling,” he said in such a nonchalant manner it left John’s whole world slightly tilting on its axis.

John righted himself in his seat and observed how James immediately slackened. It was as if all the nerves and tension pent up within him fell away at Thomas’ will. He noted how very little green was left in his eyes when he opened them. James positioned himself straight in his chair and lazily wet his lips. John tracked the movement. The rope in his gut slackened when James spoke again.

“Thank you, Tomtom,” James happily sighed out and reached for his water. John remembered how very parched he was, and he reached for his cup in tandem.

James’ throat bobbed behind the gold collar around a swallow of water. John stared religiously, longingly... His face burned with a sudden reminder of that evening shared in his apartment. He had taken it upon himself to press James against his door, he sucked on that neck. He had licked his way up the shell of a freckled ear and bit on that wonderfully hot and fleshy lobe. But he also recalled the gentle pull of belonging...  He woke in James’ arms the next morning, both of them still fully dressed, his face buried in the crook of his neck. He breathed in his deep sharp musky scent and felt so completely grounded and settled. That is, until he remembered that James had someone else.

John squirmed in his chair as he felt his blood thickly pulse in his stomach. He caught Thomas eyeing him in an appreciative yet inquisitive manner. It did little to settle him.

“How are you feeling, John?”

John took in a stuttering breath. His head began to ache. His heart bled openly in his chest. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. _How am_ ** _I_** **_feeling_** _? What a ludicrous question_ , John thought.

“I, I kissed your…  James. And I didn’t ask first I just went for it and I interrupted his telling me about your, well _the_ uh, situation,” John bit his bottom lip while he tugged on his black hairband. He swallowed. “I’m really quite sorry, I don’t mean any disrespect or —”

Thomas raised his palm, effectively halting John’s ramblings. John waited with bated breath. Thomas took a sip of his own water, set his glass down, then pet James’ neck. John saw how James leaned into the touch and carefully opened his eyes to stare at him from across the table. Thomas turned to John with a soft smile.

“I feel quite relieved, actually,” he said. John tilted his head in confusion. He flicked his gaze at James again. There was unwavering fondness and want there, clear as day. Thomas leaned toward him and lowered his voice to a soft murmur. “I was worried he wouldn’t go through with it, to be honest. James can need a bit of coaxing, especially when it comes to asking for what he really desires.”

Thomas playfully winked at him and pulled back. John felt his blush flare to the tips of his ears. He sat straight in his chair. John felt the leather backing warm to his touch. Thomas’ words left him in a state of simultaneous confusion and loosening tension. Yet, that undercurrent of nerves never fully stopped its conductivity. John swallowed and tried to logic his way out of his self-made emotional labyrinth. _He really is alright with this._

“Ohhh! It all makes sense now!” Thomas, James and John, as well as the rest of the table all turned to Ben Bones and his animated expression. John quirked his brow in confusion. Ben lightly smacked his forehead and smiled. The bells on his hat jingled with the impact. “ _You’re_ dating _James._ _Duh_!” he chuckled to himself. “No wonder you were invited to Christmas dinner.”

The room fell silent. Billy and Jack both raised their brows. Max bit her lip to keep from laughing while Eleanor tucked her chin over her crossed arms on the table. Charles and Anne quietly flitted their eyes between Ben, John and James.

John stammered, his heart jackhammered in his chest, and that ever present rope tugged taut. He flicked his hair band and twisted in his seat when Thomas raised his eyebrows in an amused fashion. They both snapped their heads in James’ direction when he began violently coughing into his hand. Thomas patted James’ back and held his crystal glass for him to drink. John swallowed thickly around that stone in his throat. Sweat seeped into the hairs on the back of his neck.

“I, uhm. Well…” _Goodness this was difficult._

“Madame Max informed me that John’s original Christmas plans fell through,” Thomas intervened with a confident tone.

John immediately saw Max’s eyes and smile soften on him in a sympathetic manner. Her and John had become rather good friends since he joined The Ranger crew six months ago. Max’s eerily strong intuition unsettled him at first, but he came to see her good nature and pure intent in the time since they first met. She was the first to know of Madi and his break-up. Max took one look at him that day at rehearsal, saw his utter lack of cohesive movements and pulled him into her office during the break. She berated him for fucking up the routine then wrapped him into her arms. He never forgot the warm, reassuring hug he gave her. Wordless and loving… But why _the fuck_ would she tell _Thomas Hamilton_ of all people anything about him?

John waited anxiously for Thomas to comment on Ben’s assumption, but none came. _Smug bastard,_ he thought instead.

Billy coughed and pulled off Ben’s jingling hat. Ben agitatedly turned with a small frown.

“Charles! The dishes look absolutely wonderful,” Thomas raved. John couldn’t help but wonder if any man could honestly be so sincere about every little thing he lauded.

John cleared his throat and finally took in the dinner laid out before them. Roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, and a large silver bowl full of leeks and potatoes laid on Thomas’ side of the table. Water pitchers and bottles of sparkling cider were laid out interspersed amongst the guests. John peered down and found bread rolls, buttered brussel sprouts, cranberry sauce, pigs in a blanket and smack dab in the center in front of Billy and Ben was their perfectly roasted vegan ham.

“Thank you, Thomas. It’s always a pleasure to cook in James’ kitchen,” Charles Vane said in a low and playful voice. _James’ kitchen?_

James stared straight at John with a blank expression. His eyes, however, betrayed his stoicism. John saw an enigmatic glint lying beneath it all. He couldn’t look away.

“Ah, well, a great tradition it is. James does enjoy cooking in  _your_ kitchen for Thanksgiving. A pleasure, as always,” Thomas broke in.

John kept his eyes level with James. He tried not to let his own small discomfort show. John couldn’t help but wonder how long everyone here had known one another. James and Thomas seemed quite close with _Jack’s_ family. John had known Anne and Jack since their days at boarding school. He didn’t think those years apart while he went to university in the United States would lead to so many… changes in his friends. But then again, John wondered, did they truly change, or did they just finally open parts of themselves to new friends, new family, that they had never felt comfortable sharing with _him_? Now that he’d returned, it was as if he never knew his two longest-known friends at all...

James broke eye contact first, and expectantly looked to Thomas. John watched as a silent conversation transpired between them. Thomas smiled and nodded, and James stood from his seat. He cleared his throat and grabbed the large knife and fork from either side of the turkey.

“Thank you all, for joining us this Christmas day,” James said with a small lilt of his lips. He side eyed John. His cheek nervously twitched before he smiled wider and looked back around the table. “It’s been a wonderful year, and Thomas and I look forward to many more pleasant memories with... everyone.”

John didn’t miss the falter in James’ voice as he said that last word. _Everyone._ Did that mean, that James had some — what, _hope?_  — in this whole… whatever it was they had? Was there a possibility of them being an item? They didn’t exactly have a one night stand… This was all so… unknown to him. John fiddled with his fingers. He took a deep breath and did his best to feel less lost.

James began carving the turkey, people took to serving themselves. John took a pass on the vegan ham, but accepted a bread roll and some mashed potatoes from Ben. The empty chair beside him began to feel like a hollow guest. He couldn’t help but wonder if anyone would come and sit next to him or James at all. John had a fleeting thought of moving to the other side of the table and sitting beside him and Jack’s _Daddy_. But that thought left as soon as Charles gently dragged Jack into his lap.

John watched as Charles poured himself a glass of sparkling cider then brought it to his lips. He took a deep sip then brought his hand up to the side of Jack’s face. John’s breath caught in his throat when he saw Jack press his mouth to Charles’ and — was he _swallowing_?

“Would you like some turkey, John? It’s quite tender.”

John whipped his head around at Thomas’ request, but did not miss the way his best friend said “Thank you, Daddy,” in an oddly subdued tone.

Thomas waited patiently with an outstretched hand for John’s plate.

“Uhm, yes, sure. Thank you,” he finally muttered out with a choppy smile. Thomas genially nodded and handed John’s plate for James to place a healthy portion of meat.

John began tearing into his bread roll as soon as he took his plate. He kept his focus resolutely on his food. While he’d never seen this side of Jack before, he was not going to let a little intimacy bother him. Goodness, he could do this. Couldn’t he? Maybe if he had something to drink to take the edge off.

“Oh! James, we forgot something upstairs,” Thomas said. James had just taken a seat after serving turkey. He immediately stood up and waited for Thomas to clarify. John saw how James put his hands behind his back while he did. “I left John’s gift to us on the bed. Bring it here, please.”

James seemed to take his order with silent diligence and nodded his head before bounding up the steps behind them. He wondered how Thomas initially reacted to his gift. A nervous flare sparked through his system. John chewed on his bread roll in an attempt to becalm himself. It wasn’t working.

“Daddy, me next!” John looked back up from where his eyes were transfixed on his plate and found Eleanor coming over to stand beside Charles. _They have the same ‘Mr. Miyagi”... right,_ John had to remind himself. Charles kept an arm around Jack while he raised an eyebrow and looked at her expectantly behind his glasses. John watched on as Eleanor lowered her head and shuffled her feet. “May I please have some of your cider, Daddy?”

Charles immediately grinned at her adjusted request. He pet her waist and nodded. “Good girl, Ellie. Thank you for asking politely.” He took another sip of his cider and urged her down to meet his lips in the same treatment Jack received. John did his best to breathe deeply and center himself. Jack looked up with a small twitch of his lips. John sighed out and smiled fondly. _It’s just Jack,_ John told himself. _It’s just Jack._

The doorbell rang.

John looked back and forth to the empty chairs on either side of the table. James still hadn’t returned with the bottle of wine. Thomas wiped his mouth with his white linen napkin then moved from his seat.

“Excuse me, it seems our final guests have arrived!”

John sat still, isolated on all sides as he heard the muffled and animated greetings of people in the doorway. He felt his skin begin to crawl at Thomas’ welcoming words through the doorway.

“Julius! It’s so good to see you out of the firm, my friend. I’ll take that, thank you. Please have a seat. There’s a spot beside Billy’s husband for you.”

John’s stomach dropped. The heavy rope snapped inside him. His face blanched as Julius strolled in with a wide smile and wave for the room. Julius strolled over and took his seat between Ben and himself. John immediately went still as stone when he felt Julius recognize him. He didn’t move a muscle. John suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore.

“Thank you, for inviting us, Thomas. Sorry for our late arrival—”

Her voice was all he heard, all he felt. It filled his eardrums and trickled down the sides of his throat, swelling around his vocal chords, his chest, his ribs. A cold sweat broke out on his skin. _They know each other? They bloody know each other?_

He couldn’t look up, he simply couldn’t do it. But then James came back with the bottle of Chateau Montrose, his voice filled the air, and John felt his head lift of its own volition.

“Here it is! Oh, hello Madi. You both made it!”

She wore a deep plum satin dress that brightened her skin, accentuated her shining eyes that locked onto John, held him captive. Madi’s mouth parted on a small gasp. She pulled herself together, sighed and resolutely smiled.

“Hello, John.”

John felt bile rise in his stomach. This was not good. Not at all. He tore his eyes away when James sat down again with Thomas’ approval. Thomas took his seat at the head of the table and began placing turkey on Julius’ plate.

“You two know one another?”

James could not have asked a more painful question.

John couldn’t breathe. James’ expression went from one of mild curiosity to concern when neither Madi nor himself answered.

The room went stock still. Thomas carefully handed Julius back his dish while digging into his own plate with a small groan of approval.

“This is delicious, Charles. You’ve outdone yourself with the brussel sprouts this year—”

“You do know one another don’t you? _How_ do you know one another?”

John’s chest tightened. His hands trembled. He felt invisible weights from the walls and ceiling crushing in on him at James’ pressing questions. Madi looked to him with an imploring furrow of her brows.

“James, quiet, please. Julius how was your drive from the city? I hope it wasn’t too much traffic on Christmas day,” Thomas’ attempt at redirecting the conversation went unnoticed. Julius stayed silent by John’s side, instead.

Madi saw him here, and she seemed... unfazed? What did this all mean? Why was _she_ here? And how could he possibly answer that question? He lost his grounding, he flickered between two points in time. The past and the present— his future? He wasn’t sure. It was too much. The guilt, the utter guilt of leading James on. But that wasn’t entirely true. He didn’t intend to use James, not after he had been so open with him about Thomas. How could he _possibly_. _Answer_. _That_ _question_?

How could he answer it when he had another question of his own nagging inside his skull — why was _he_ here? What was he doing in this house? Invited by a man he’d never met before until today, the man who literally laid claim to James? And what James and him shared was not so much a one night stand, but...   _something._

James’ jaw began to tremble. A realization seemed to dawn on him. His eyelids went to half mast, those green fractaled forests became filled with a deceptively dull fire.

“You were watching her. At the party. You were watching her before I came with that martini.”

John couldn’t breathe. His chest began to heave. He felt his vision begin to grey in his peripheries. Julius was next to him, Thomas on his other side. He was boxed in. Boxed in and unable to move. He shouldn’t have come. He should never have come.

“James, enough.”

James’ face began to redden. John watched his pulse jump at his temples. His teeth gnashed together, his chest heaved in tandem with John’s but for an entirely different reason.

“Was I just a bloody _distraction_ to you?”

John’s heart pounded in his ears. He felt his throat constrict as James leered over the table toward him.

“ _James, sit. down.—_ ”

John’s eyes darted to Thomas’. James’ voice gutted his insides. He shrunk in his seat.

“You _used_ me.”

John felt hot tear tracks fall down his face. He dug his nails into the tops of his thighs. He looked away but all he found were the eyes of everyone at the table staring at him. _Trapped._

“I—”

“Answer me!”

“ _Enough_.”  

Thomas stood at his full height. His voice held a steel edge that could cut through the hardest of stone. It demanded to be obeyed. His eyes were deadly calm as they finally commanded James’ full attention. Those grey-blue orbs were full of a darkness that John couldn’t muster the strength to shy away from their pull.  It was as if they were the only thing in this moment that held any solid ground; and that unsettled John more than anything else.

James dropped his eyes to the ground. He backed away from the table. He breathed heavily through his nostrils. He rolled his jaw and slightly tilted his head in deference.

“Excuse us, everyone,” Thomas said in as calm a tone as possible.

But John denoted what sounded like disappointment in his voice. _This is all my fault,_ he thought. Was James going to be punished? Is that how things worked here? John’s mouth unglued.

“W-wait, I can explain—”

Thomas firmly gripped the back of James’ neck. He raised his other hand, effectively silencing John once again. “No need to explain. You’ve done nothing that I hadn’t hoped you would have done,” he said in a kind voice. “We won’t be long. Come, James.”

John’s mind reeled. _What the fuck does that mean?_ Do what he _would_ _have_ done? He watched with panic-stricken eyes as James obeyed, albeit with balled fists and stiff shoulders. John looked back to the table.

All those eyes were still on him. Jack and Anne stared on sympathetically. Billy and Ben shifted in their seats. Max petted Eleanor’s head. Julius stared at his plate, as did Charles. And Madi. Madi was walking over to his of the table.

He jolted up from his seat. Nausea overwhelmed him. Fire spun in his chest. His stomach dropped then clenched. That cold sweat grew ever colder across his skin. He had to get out, he had to get out. He needed to get away. He needed safety. Safety.

He shoved past Madi, bound the corner and turned left. He felt his airway constrict, too much light. Too much space. John shakily turned the knob of the guest restroom and shut it behind him. He slid down the doorframe and thunked on the floor. The room was dark. It was small. He was alone.

His breathing grew more erratic the harder he tried to inhale. He couldn’t get enough air. He was dying. He was coming to his end. He ruined lives and he was coming to his end.

John pulled his knees up and bent his head between them, then tried to breathe again. _Too much, too much. And I’m not enough._

John fisted clumps of his hair and harshly tugged while he brokenly sobbed out. He shook from head to toe. Bile rose in his throat. John quickly turned to the toilet and lifted the lid. He dry heaved into the bowl, but nothing came out. He gripped the chilled porcelain and heaved again. His stomach clenched so hard he groaned out painfully then fell back against cabinets beneath the sink. _I don’t belong here,_ he thought.

John heard a soft rapping at the door.

“John? It’s Billy.” His eyes darted to the door. He hadn’t locked it. The knob turned. “I’m coming in, alright?”

John wrapped his arms around his knees and shuffled closer to the wall opposite the door. Light poured in around Billy’s mammoth frame. He bowed his head then clicked the door shut behind him. Billy’s calm demeanor as he crouched down and offered him a glass of water was much appreciated. He wordlessly took the glass and sipped through small gasps for air. John took to counting backward from ten.

 _Nine._ another sip of water. _Eight._ A deep breath. _Seven._ Sip. _Six._ breathe.

All the while Billy silently crouched, eyes on the floor between them, a wingtip shoe in front of him. John counted the leather marks in the design of his shoe as he finished off his glass of water.

“I thought you were against using or wearing anything animal related.”

Billy raised his head at John’s statement. “Yes, what’s your point?” he quietly asked.

John looked down at his shoes and then up at him.

Billy stared at his shoes then immediately nodded his head. “Oh yeah! Ha, yeah,” he scratched the back of his head and stood. He held out a hand for John to grip and hold onto as he stood as well. “Ben got them for me for Christmas. Vegan leather. It’s a beautiful thing.”

John nodded and tried to laugh. It came out flat. He smiled as best he could instead. The room was still dark, but his eyes began to adjust. “Thanks, Billy.”

Billy nodded and pat his shoulder. “Of course. Ben gets panic attacks from time to time. No harm, no foul, yeah?”

Billy and John turned in tandem when three quiet raps hit the doorframe.

“May I come in?” John deflated when Thomas Hamilton’s deep baritone voice permeated through the wooden door.

Billy looked John in the eyes. “You gonna be alright, bruv?” he quietly asked. _Would he?_

John nodded and tiredly grinned. He looked at his empty glass of water and turned it on the bathroom counter. Billy nodded and opened the door. He made room for Thomas to step inside while he walked out.

The room was warm. John’s breathing evened enough, his body grew tired enough that being alone in it with Thomas had less of a terrifying effect than it would have minutes ago.

“Oh my, it’s rather dark in here. Let me flip on the lowlights.” John closed his eyes to prepare himself for an onslaught of brightness. “That’s better.” John tensed at the sudden tepid warmth on his shoulder. “It’s alright, John. They’re low intensity. They won’t hurt your eyes, love.”

John slowly peered through his eyelids. Lights from beneath the giant glass mirror over the sink emanated in a gentle red glow. Thomas stood in front of him with a creased brow and a soft smile across his lips. His held a box in his hands. It was wrapped in a shiny paper and topped with a satin ribbon. He dropped his hand from John’s shoulder. John didn’t want to explore his reasons for chasing the touch.

“This is from Madi. She wanted to make sure you got it in case you left before we all opened our presents.”

John’s stomach tightened. He took a deep breath and began flicking his hair band against his wrist. Long fingers took hold and wrapped around in a firm yet gentle manner.

“Please, stop doing that.”

John waited for the familiar burn of shame to fill his blood, but it never came. Gentle finger pads rubbed at his reddened wrist instead. His shoulders slackened.

“You keep doing that whenever you’re nervous. I hate to think you’d still be nervous when it’s just you and I here.”

John finally met his eyes and swallowed. He surprised himself when he actually scoffed out loud. “That’s hard to believe. I feel you’ve been intentionally leaving me on edge all evening,” John watched Thomas quirk his blonde brows. “You know, somehow. _You know_ that Madi and I have a history. And for some reason, you had the wherewithal to know I was not going to spend Christmas with her. Then, you have the _audacity_ to invite me to Christmas dinner. _Knowing_ she would be here as well. _Knowing,_ I presume, that your… James would react poorly—”

Thomas loosened his grip and crossed his arms. John ran a hand through his hair and jiggled his leg.

“Y-you _knew_ I would take James home. Somehow you knew that didn’t you?”

“Well, I didn’t _know_ about Madi and you, to be quite honest.” Thomas sighed, his face became sallow. “Now _that,_  I am truly sorry for,” he said. “Julius is an associate of mine at the firm I work for. He began seeing Madi a few months back. I had no idea that you two had a... _rough_ history. I mentioned to her that you were coming to dinner, and she noted you two had known each other for years. I was given no inclination that you two had a romantic past which, now I am aware of, ended poorly...”

John was taken aback at Thomas’ apology. He was at a loss for words… Madi really did like to dig the dagger in deep.

Thomas leaned against the sink and chortled. “And I certainly didn’t _know_ you would take James home," he shrugged and looked up with a wry smile. "I merely hoped you would."

John shook his head in disbelief. “Why the hell would you _manipulate_ people like that? You do realize you manipulated me _and_ James.”

Thomas reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a small jewelry box. John gawked at it.

“It’s not necessarily a manipulation if I was really just taking advantage of good information and proper timing,” Thomas replied.

“I hate to say this, sir, but your timing is terrible.”

Thomas tapped the jewelry box with his index finger then handed it to John. “This is from me,” he said while looking down at it. “I don’t believe in being too forward, John. I’m sure you’ve acknowledged by now, that I am quite dedicated in seeing the people I care about _stay_ cared for. You recall I mentioned that James and I had seen you perform, yes?”

John nodded as he slowly reached out for the jewelry box from Thomas’ lithe hands.

“That first night we saw you perform was the first time I’d seen James so enthralled in someone in quite some time,” John watched Thomas twirl his wedding ring around while he spoke. He saw a sadness fall over Thomas’ expression. A melancholy smile graced his face. He chuckled and looked up at John. “I took him to see you perform a second time just so I could watch him watch you.”

John’s heart fluttered. Thomas’ eyes sparkled, red lights gleaming in them while he laughed. “ _Then,_ we went a _third_ time. Because I wanted to properly observe you for myself. That was when Madame Max noticed us constantly buying tickets for repeat performances. She’s much too intuitive for her own good. She tipped me off that you would be attending the holiday party. I advised James to go on without me, and if he happened to see someone there he wanted to enjoy time with, that he could.”

John felt the puzzle pieces click into place. He swallowed and looked at the box in his hands. He sniffed and looked back up. His heart slowed back to a normal pace. John nodded and twitched his nose. “Is James alright? I- I didn’t mean to get him in any trouble, or anything,” he took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest in a tight fashion. “I’m sorry, it’s just I’m not very used to this type of situation… any of it, really. I’m doing my best to understand. I am.”

Thomas stepped closer and lowered his arms. “James is quite alright. He just needed to be reminded that he is loved.” Thomas spoke with such tenderness. It struck John how much Thomas seemed to settle as soon as he said those words aloud. “Time is short, and happiness should never be stunted, John. If there’s anything I’ve learned so far in my life, it is that.” John furrowed his brows but nodded nonetheless. _Happiness, it’s about happiness..._ It still didn’t completely make sense to him, but maybe in time it would... Thomas held out his arms. “Would it be alright if I held you? Please don’t take any offense or feel obligated to, but your reaction had me worried when my James got riled up at dinner.”  

John didn’t expect the request. He was quite pleasantly surprised at Thomas’ genuine concern for him, too. He wasn’t used to being so closely paid attention to, and to his surprise it calmed him, rather than infuriated him; to be seen…

He found himself closing the space between them. His head rested level with Thomas’ heartbeat while warm arms wrapped around him and held him close. His shoulders slackened as the last fringes of his panic attack melted away. Who in the world was this man who could care so selflessly about someone who had taken his own _collared_ partner to bed? Thomas Hamilton was a puzzle that John had yet to solve...

Thomas’ content sigh brought him back to the present. He loosened his own crossed arms and wrapped them around Thomas’ back. The gentle thumping of Thomas’ heart beneath his ear soothed him and he felt his lips tug up into a smile.

“Thank you, so much, John.”

John pursed his mouth and pulled away first. He traced his fingertips over the silk ribboning on Madi’s box. “You said something about opening presents with everyone?”

Thomas lit up and grinned. He nodded. “Yes! However, Madi did mention you might prefer to open yours privately… I’m not one to go against another’s advice in these matters.” Thomas took the glass off the sink. “Let me get you some water, I’ll have it waiting for you when you’re ready to come out into the open, yes?”

John nodded and pocketed the jewelry box. He felt the final traces of his anxiety wane away when Thomas opened the restroom door and headed toward the kitchen. John sniffed and flicked on the full light switch. The room glowed in a soft yellow luminescence.

He grabbed the box, flipped the lid on the toilet, sat down and fiddled with the package in his lap. In the light he could see the box was a deep midnight blue, the ribbon black and elegant. He pressed his thumbs under the cardboard lid and shoved until it popped open. He slid the lid forward and peered at white wrapping paper folded over inside. John lifted the thin crinkled wrapping on one end. The lid slipped from his grasp.

Sweat pricked up over his forehead. His eyes stared wide at what lay in his lap. His fingers shook while they dared touch the shimmering fabric before him. Deep twisted yearning squeezed his heart in its grasp. A corset. Midnight blue and metallic, of a similar material Max and Anne wore this evening. Bracketed in black lace trim on the top and bottom. He stared with a sharp cutting glare at the offending gift. It would fit him perfectly, too. Madi knew how to make anything look perfect on John.

John grunted out in rage. He gripped the lid off the floor and slammed it over the package. _Traitor, bitch, horrible horrible bitch,_ he thought. He struggled to right his sweater over his shoulders, his slacks over his legs before he flung open the restroom door and looked around for Madi. He saw her move out the hallway and through the front door. He couldn’t get his voice to work, his throat was too strung tight to let any real noise out.

He held the box under one arm, bent his head down and tried not to look urgent as he strolled out of the house after her. Madi bent down into her car. He charged forward, resolute. Madi turned around, at the sound of crunching footsteps in the snow. Her face drew back into a stoic front. John shoved the box to her chest.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing giving me this, huh? Giving me this… this fucking _slap_ in my face?”

Madi crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows in a “no bullshit” manner. She calmly moved the box back to him. “You didn’t hear what I had to say, what else was I to do?”

John leaned away as far as possible until the box nearly tumbled to the ground. He caught it at the last moment. His fingers burned through the cardboard and ribbon. “What the fuck does this mean?! Why—” John panted out in fear. His lips quivered, his eyes filled with tears. He shook his head and looked down. Teardrops fell on the delicate satin ribbon. “Why would you do this?”

John gasped when her small smooth hand cupped his cheek. Her thumb wiped away at his falling tears.

“It’s alright, John.” He sobbed out, crumpled forward into her hold. “I, I kept trying to find the words to tell you that it was alright.”

He shook against her. “How can it be alright? That I’m not. I’m not enough of a _ma—_ ” he gasped out at the last word and took in a sharp breath. Her warm breasts pressed against his chest. “I wasn’t enough for you. I’m not enough. I’m never enough.”

Madi rubbed his back in soothing circles. “John. You were always more than enough. The problem you had, what you've had since we first met, was that you held yourself back."

John pulled away. His vision was blurred. 

"I was so angry. But not at you, John,” she said with lackluster heat. "I was never angry with you. How could I be? I started it. I lifted that lid for you the first time…”

The first time.

When they laid on Madi’s dorm room bed. His head lay in her lap. Her heated skin bled into his cheek as he rubbed his stubbled chin over her black sheer underwear. He remembered running his lips over the fabric, over and over. Enthralled by the texture. The first time. When Madi wore her deep purple satin nightgown. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers, through his fists, while she straddled and rode him. The first time. When she wore it again, but yanked it off and urged him to sit up. She slid the fabric over his head. It ran over his curls, down his neck, over his shoulders. The first time. When he felt such smooth silky caresses over his own chest, his own back. His own skin.

The first time he felt most himself.

Or was it the first time, when she finally discovered he’d stolen that satin nightgown from her? When she found him in their home, alone one afternoon, dressed in her shimmering fabrics while practicing his new dance solo? Was it that first time, when she saw it was more than just a bedroom game?

“I was angry because you were afraid to tell _me._ When I was there to witness it all,” Madi continued. John’s tears fell silently this time. He met her eyes, saw the regret unmissable.

He had been so terrified that afternoon. Her face was full of rage, and what he figured was disgust. But maybe it really was disappointment, maybe it was her disappointment in him for not trusting. For not telling her of all people in this world. But he didn’t tell her because he never thought he’d hear what she now said over and over again.

“But I think I’m most angry with myself, for not telling you the first time. That it was alright. That it’s alright, John. It’s alright if this makes you happy. And I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there for you when you needed it most.”

John shook his head. He stared down at the box between them. A divide, or a bridge? He tugged off the lid and pressed a shaking palm to the fabric. He shakily, quietly laughed through more tears, then took a deep breath and sighed. “It’s beautiful.”

Madi patted his face and smiled through her own silent tears. “Something beautiful for someone beautiful.”

John sniffled and smiled while he carefully replaced the lid. He wasn’t ready to share this with the world, but Madi’s assurances helped settle a deep rooted fear at the apex of his being. _Happiness. It’s about happiness._

“We should get going back inside, what do you say?” Madi turned back into her car and pulled out a large covered tray.

John grinned from ear to ear. The last of his tears dried from his face. “You made rum cake, didn’t you?”

Madi eagerly nodded. “Julius hasn’t tried it yet, I’m a bit nervous for him to taste it actually.”

John moved his box under an arm and patter her shoulder. “I’m sure he will love it.”

They walked back up the pathway to Thomas and James’ home. John pushed the door open. Warmth enveloped them, and voices filled the living room to their right. Madi walked forward where Jack stood ready to take the cake back in the kitchen in preparation for dessert. John caught sight of ginger locks to his left.

James stood with a glass of untouched water in his hands. John sympathetically grinned and moved forward. James’ eyes met his in an apologetic manner. He stepped forward as well.

John looked around the empty entryway then back to James.

“I should not have been so brash with you at dinner,” James gruffly said. He looked at the glass of water in his hand and offered it to John. “I hope you can understand where I was coming from.”

John grinned wider and took the glass from James’ hands. “Is this from Thomas?”

James nodded. “He’s a good man, Thomas. I know he can be a bit… forward at times, but he means well.”

John nodded and stepped closer while taking a sip of water. He felt bold in that moment, bold enough to lean forward and murmur in James’ ear. “Am I allowed to hold your hand?”

That telltale blush immediately crawled up James’ skin, behind his collar, over his nose and ears. John chuckled at how ferociously quick it traveled. He waited for James’ nod before slipping their fingers together. James’ warmth spread through John’s palm and up his arm to his chest.

“There you are!” Thomas clasped a palm on either one of their shoulders. John looked up behind him and found that brilliant flashing smile. He shyly returned it. The small fleeting moment that he should let go of James’ hand disappeared when he felt Thomas gently squeeze his shoulder. “John, you haven’t opened your present from me yet, have you?”

James twisted his neck around and raised a brow in curiosity. John fondly shook his head. “Not yet, no.”

“Excellent,” Thomas led them to the living room and sat them down on a couch by the fireplace. John sat between James and Thomas. He felt an arm slide behind his back. Thomas kneaded the back of James’ neck. John saw the fond distant smile pull on James’ lips. John rubbed his thumb over the back of James’ hand and saw his veridian eyes crinkle fondly.

Madi and Max engaged in a deep conversation while Anne laid her head in Max’s lap. Charles held Eleanor on his lap and chuckled as she sipped at his coffee with a raised pinky. Ben and Billy sat side by side on a grand piano bench playing an upbeat melody while Ben jingled his hat. Julius came out with Jack holding a tray of rum cake.

“Johnny!” Jack exclaimed with a smile. John pushed his hair behind his ear and waved from the couch.

John leaned into the back of the couch. He placed Madi’s gift to him behind his legs on the floor and drummed his free fingers on his thigh.

“Go on, John, open your present,” Thomas gently coaxed. John quickly nodded and searched in his pocket. James leaned forward and watched as John thumbed over the black velvet exterior of the jewelry box. He snapped open the lid and pulled back in awe. Thomas quietly chuckled beside him. “Don’t be shy, try it on.”

John squeezed James’ hand one more time before letting go to lift the silver wristwatch out of its white pillowed encasing. The metal was cool to the touch. It fit around his left wrist perfectly. Its weight was grounding, solid. He was taken aback.

“I…” John started. He looked between James’ small smile and Thomas’ kind encouraging eyes. He brought his wrist up to his ear and listened to the quiet, rhythmic ticking of the hands inside. He closed his eyes and hummed out. A calm smile grew. John finally opened his eyes and found the room staring in curiosity. He blushed while he cleared his throat. That smile beamed on his face. “Thank you, it’s wonderful.”

“Every second is an opportunity. Is it not?”

John took in Thomas’ words and nodded. Thomas grinned and bent down to whisper in John’s ear. “Now stop wasting time and kiss him.”

John's heart stuttered and halted. He furrowed his brows and bit his lip while looking up at Thomas. Thomas nodded and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. John slowly turned and faced James. He glanced at those plush red lips, then back to his ruddy, clean-shaven cheeks. James let out a small breath when he leaned forward. He halted and inhaled. He took James' face in his hands and swallowed around his remaining anxiety. James pressed a palm over John's hand. He brushed their noses together.

"Goodness, you are gorgeous," James breathed out.

John pressed his knees together and rubbed his fingers over James' greying temples.

He couldn't help but take the plunge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this fun holiday adventure! 
> 
> I plan on expanding this verse quite a bit this year. Thank you to everyone who read and commented! It means so much to hear how this story is relatable. 
> 
> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr @silversexual so we can flail over these damn characters that have ruined me. <3


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